From “Hamilton” to Halftime: The Same Cultural Panic, Different Stage

by Chris Peterson

If you know someone who turned off the Super Bowl halftime show in favor of… checks notes… Kid Rock, this column is probably about them.

You know the person. They’re not going to say anything openly hateful. They’re not going to tweet a slur. They’ll tell you they’re just “not into it.” They’ll say the performance “wasn’t for them.” They’ll say they “couldn’t connect.” And then, somehow, every single time Latino artists get the biggest stage in the country, they suddenly become extremely passionate about what is and isn’t “real America.”

Funny how that works.

This is the same energy we’ve seen before. The same people who act like Coco is “nice, I guess” but not great. The same people who call In the Heights “too specific” like stories about white suburban angst are somehow universal scripture. The same people who insist Hamilton is “overrated” without ever admitting what really makes them uncomfortable: who gets to hold the narrative, who gets to lead the room, and who gets to be centered in the story of America.

Again, we all know this person.

And before anyone gets defensive, let’s say this plainly. Disliking one performance does not make someone racist. Not every criticism is prejudice. Sometimes a show just misses for you. That’s normal. That’s art.

But patterns are also real.

When somebody only seems to get “critical” when the artist is singing in Spanish, when the imagery is rooted in Latino identity, when the celebration isn’t translated for mainstream comfort, that’s not just taste. That’s discomfort with visibility. That’s discomfort with who gets to be seen at full volume.

There’s a difference between “I didn’t love the mix on that second number” and “Why are they doing this here?”

One is criticism. The other is gatekeeping with better PR.

Hamilton and In the Heights

What gets me is how familiar the script is. The moment is big, loud, undeniable, and culturally Latino. Then comes the hand-wringing about “division,” “politics,” and “language,” as if Spanish showing up at a Super Bowl halftime show is some shocking breach of protocol and not a reflection of the country people actually live in.

And yes, the Kid Rock pivot is part of why this whole thing feels like satire. If you know someone who ditched Bad Bunny for a “real America” alternative, they are practically writing this column for us. You couldn’t workshop a better metaphor if you tried.

Because this has never just been about one show. It’s about who gets to have a national moment without shrinking themselves first. It’s about who gets to be celebrated without subtitles, explanations, and permission slips. It’s about whether people can handle Latino excellence when it is centered, unapologetic, and impossible to ignore.

Some folks can. Some folks immediately start searching for an exit ramp.

And look, nobody has to love every artist. Nobody has to pretend every halftime show is flawless. But if someone’s entire cultural nervous system only activates when Latino artists take up space, maybe the problem isn’t choreography. Maybe it isn’t song choice. Maybe it isn’t “production value.”

Maybe it’s that they’re watching a moment that wasn’t built around them, and they still haven’t learned how to sit with that.

That’s the real story here. Not outrage. Not outrage about outrage. Not who posted what. Just a mirror.

Some people watched that halftime show and saw joy, pride, artistry, and presence. And some hit mute, changed the channel, and told themselves it was just about taste.

Sure. If you know someone who did that, you already know exactly what this column is saying.